


square one

by jupiterrism



Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I'm Sorry, M/M, Missing Scene, Not Beta Read, Sorry Not Sorry, but alternate universe, i dont know what i wrote tbh im so sorry, what happens to pengkor?, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiterrism/pseuds/jupiterrism
Summary: debt of gratitude is no longer a problem, after this ends. they're back to square one.
Relationships: Haidar Subandi (Pengkor) & Ridwan Bahri
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	square one

**Author's Note:**

> warning: word splurge. extremely self-indulgent. writing skills go stonk during quarantine. written for GUNDALA'S 1ST ANNIVERSARY but posted late bc brain dumb. SELAMAT SATU TAHUN GUNDALA!

"Saya sudah peringatkan kamu."

Ridwan's voice is just above a whisper, carried away by a wisp of wind that reduces his voice to a mere murmur. Haidar—no, Pengkor—is a limp body in front of him, drenched in his own blood and rage that makes Ridwan shudder. Even during his last moments, Pengkor is always full of revenge driven anger.

"Saya sudah peringatkan kamu dan kamu tidak mau mendengarkan." Ridwan returns his revolver back into the holster before kneeling down, keeping his eyes on Pengkor. The rooftop is clear; the girl and her little brother are long gone, taking the old security to the hospital nearby.

The one who managed to avert the disaster? Now on a mission to destroy the serum. Sometimes Ridwan wonders how it feels to have such drive in trying to make things right. In the name of peace, he will say, but words mean nothing when he's got his hands dirty and does nothing to clean them up.

"Ridwan…" Pengkor is pleading, Ridwan knows. There is a hint of desperation hiding underneath the bubbling anger, even when his hand shakes and his breath hitches as he reaches for Ridwan. When a bloodied hand grips his collar, Ridwan knows what to do even when he doesn't feel like it.

Friends never abandon one another even though they have parted ways. Ridwan owes Haidar his life, and it's time to return the favor.

Undressing Haidar is a hard feat; the man is nearly unconscious from all the blood he's losing, but Ridwan manages to take his suit jacket off and proceeds to press his hand on the gaping hole on Haidar's stomach.

"Utang saya terbayar lunas," Ridwan says from gritted teeth. He doesn't need to turn his head around to see that Haidar is grinning at him, blood stained lips forming a smirk on a half-burnt face. They limp all the way to the parking lot, Haidar's labored breathing is painful to Ridwan's ear.

No need to worry about the bloodstain, Ridwan is going to burn down his car after this ends. 

"Kamu ingat waktu kita pertama kali bertemu, Ridwan?" The affectionate tone coming from Haidar's lips doesn't go unnoticed, but it's unsettling, when Haidar himself is on the brink of death. His breath gurgles in his throat, thick with blood and red-hot rage, but Ridwan couldn't bring himself to feel guilty.

Ridwan remembers, of course, but he opts for silence. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel, mind flashing back to several decades ago, when Pengkor was his savior.

He still is, but Ridwan is trying to grow out of his black and white mindset.

"Ingat," Ridwan replies curtly, smelling smoke and seeing orange behind his eyelids as he blinks. Fire, the sound of people screaming. Their supposed caretakers, neck slit and lifeless. He sees Pengkor in the middle, their voice of reason.

“Kamu ber-”

“Ini saya, membalas utang budi kepada kamu.” The door slams shut as Ridwan drags Haidar to his feet, blood seeping from his shirt. Haidar is as pale as a sheet of paper, greedily taking in gulps of breath, hanging on his last thread of life. Ridwan knows Haidar won’t die like this, wasted and helpless. He’s stronger than he looks, and more cunning too.

“Saya tidak lagi ada utang nyawa.” The words are repeated like a mantra, a reverent murmur between his quick movements in sewing Haidar close. The other man has his eyes shut and Ridwan is thankful for that; sometimes the way Haidar stares at him is too much, too intense.

Ridwan realizes that his hands are trembling, dried specks of blood on all over his palms and when he wipes them over his pants, it’s no use. “Istirahat,” he says to the other man, his voice ringing on the empty apartment. Pengkor is beyond evil, but Haidar was his friend; it’s hard to wash away the fondness in his voice when they talk around the other parliament members, it’s harder when it’s just the two of them.

There is no answer from Haidar, but Ridwan could hear the painful wheeze and that’s a sign that no, Haidar is not dying. Ridwan sets a glass of water along with painkillers on the nightstand before he makes his way out of his own room. The sofa won’t be welcoming and the way his spine and joints crack when he lays down are enough of a warning siren, but staying away and detached from Pengkor is the only way.

How can he live like this, Ridwan doesn’t know either. Sleep is a long way coming, and when Ridwan finds Pengkor nowhere in his apartment, he tells himself that he should’ve known better.


End file.
